


High Hopes Low Dance Moves

by Goldstone_Wolf



Series: High Hopes Low (Blank) [5]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), High Hopes Low Rolls (Web Series)
Genre: Awkward Assassin Boys, Dancing, Dragonborn Bourbon, M/M, Malark is denying that he has feelings for Paddy, This was meant to be fluff but it didn't really turn out that way, awkward boys, awkward moments, not sure if this is what Ava is like but that's okay, which is less okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:40:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23688595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldstone_Wolf/pseuds/Goldstone_Wolf
Summary: Paddy and Malark dance together in a hotel room when the town they’re in has a festival. Should be all fluff. I hope you’re happy this came to me at 11:30 at night because I had a Celtic Woman song stuck in my head.
Relationships: Malark Dundragon/Paddock "Paddy" Whitlaw
Series: High Hopes Low (Blank) [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1692196
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	High Hopes Low Dance Moves

**Author's Note:**

> This one was meant to be posted before “Dancing on Cold Feet” (one of my Teen Wolf fics, you can check it out if you want in between HHLR fics). I was taking a break from “I Must Be Good For Something” when I wrote this yesterday. Next fic is “High Hopes Low Luck” for HHLR. This should be fairly short.

“What are you doing?”

Paddy glanced behind him and smiled at Malark as the assassin stepped into the room. “I’m dancing along to the music. From the festival.”

“The one we can’t go to?” The village they were in apparently had a rule. No humanoids (meaning elves, half-elves, dwarves, and humans) were allowed outside for the festivals. It was really only for dragonborns like Hashaan and Nagar, anyways, but Brio, Terra, and Mina had gotten away with leaving. Malark found the rule stupid—it wasn’t like he wanted to go to the festival anyways.

Paddy nodded, and when the assassin came within range Malark realised he had made a mistake. By then, it was too late—Paddy’s hands were holding his and he could not in good conscience stop the elf from pulling him close. “Come on, dance with me. Please?” A peculiar light danced in Paddy’s green eyes.

Blushing under a mask he was very glad to still be wearing, Malark choked out, “I don’t know how to dance.”

“Yes you do, I’ve seen you—”

“No, I mean—” Yes, he had danced with targets before, and even though Paddy was once a target, he was….something _more_ now. “I don’t—I don’t know.”

He couldn’t afford to think of Paddy as anything mor than an ally.

Unfortunately for him, the wood elf smiled at him in a way that made Malark’s heart skip a beat. He had to have felt it—they were standing intimately close, one of Paddy’s arms around Malark’s waist. “Do you want me to teach you?”

Malark’s body rebelled against his better judgement and nodded.

Paddy showed him where to put his hands, and after a few (admittedly clumsy) tries, Malark seemed to be getting it. At the very least, he had only stepped on Paddy’s feet once (or six times). “We are never to speak of this again.”

Laughing in a way that reminded Malark of brighter days, Paddy replied, “Only if you don’t want to, love.” At the nickname, which Paddy probably used with everyone, Malark’s traitorous little heart did a Thing. Then his body did a different, much more horrifying thing.

Malark, one of the guild’s best assassins (according to multiple teachers, mentors, and even other assassins; it was why he was sent to kill Paddy), _tripped over his own feet._

_Malark Dundragon._

_Tripped_ on _himself._

All he could think when he opened his eyes was that he was very, _very_ glad to be wearing the mask. Otherwise, he and Paddy would have been kissing. And that would be awkward because he was nothing more than an ally Malark could not—he was staring at Paddy like an idiot _he needed to say something._ “Sorry, Paddy. I-I told you I don’t—”

Paddy ran his fingers over Malark’s cheek and around under his hood.

Malark didn’t realise he was holding his breath until Paddy murmured, “It’s okay to breathe, Malark. I won’t hurt you.” He seemed to realise where his hand was and what he was doing, then flushed immediately under the makeup.

Before the awkwardness could continue, someone saved them by banging on the door. “Yo, Paddy, Malark! I found some dragonborn bourbon!” Ava laughed through the door, then burped at a volume so loud someone outside yelled affirmation. “Do you want to go get _wasted_ or what?”

As Paddy and Malark separated themselves from each other, the latter mumbled something about taking a nap. “Be right there, Ava!” As Malark laid down on his bed, back to the wood elf, Paddy added, “Thanks. For letting me teach you. And…I’m sorry.”

The door closed quietly, and Malark stared out the window.

He could not afford to develop feelings for Paddy, but he had a feeling that was exactly what he was doing.

**Author's Note:**

> Looks like some angst snuck in, whoops. Either way, this was a nice break from “I Must Be Good For Something” (and a nice thing to type up afterwards, too), so thanks for reading it anyways. There will be more fics in the future—for HHLR, Teen Wolf, SvtHSA, and maybe even my own series (but you don’t need to read those unless you want to; if you buy the books before this quarantine is over, I will fight you, save the money for bills and food). My current (well, future) HHLR projects/WIPs are a rom-com-esque one where Paddy and Malark anger a witch and have to deal with a potion gone wrong, and another one where someone gets caught in a loop where the other(s) die. I suggest subscribing to this series if you’re like me and are too lazy to find all the updates manually.  
> Now, into the fray once more!


End file.
